


Call Me That Again, I Dare Ya

by Waynesgrayson



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Gore, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 06:09:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3108929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waynesgrayson/pseuds/Waynesgrayson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts with Maggie. She doesn't make a big show about it, doesn't smirk or laugh when she says it. In fact, it's said so naturally that it takes him a minute to notice something's off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Call Me That Again, I Dare Ya

**Author's Note:**

> Daryl/everyone bromance is what I am here for.  
> Okay everyone/everyone bromance is what I am here for, 100%  
> I just liked the idea of everyone calling Daryl "Dare" and it being a stepping stone in him fully feeling like he belongs.  
> This most definitely has mistakes. I just wrote it out looked over a few times and posted it, so I apologize if there are any.

“Good mornin', Dare.”

“Mornin'.”

It starts with Maggie. She doesn't make a big show about it, doesn't smirk or laugh when she says it. In fact, it's said so naturally, as if she's always said it, that it takes him a minute to notice something's off with her greeting. By the time he notices it, though, and goes to tell her off about it she's already at the fences, shoving a crowbar into the heads of a hissing walkers. He decides it's not really worth chasing after her for.

She says it again a few hours later. An incident at their newly made gate allows a few walkers to slip in

where Carl and Maggie were standing alone. They did expect it, after all they needed to test and fix any mistakes or bumps the gates may come across, and it wasn't anything they couldn't handle.

But with Rick's guilt and new found appreciation for farming, Carl found himself a little hesitant when going for his gun. It was only for a second, but it was enough for a walker to get too close to Maggie's unprotected back. He watched wide eyed as an arrow sang through the air, embedding itself into the walkers skull before it could touch her.

She whips around at the feel of blood splattering her back, and comes face to face with another walker and promptly takes it's head off. Carl grabs the knife out of his belt and leans down, stabbing the wobbling head through the brain. Before he could stand he feels another arrow fly above him, the sound of skin and bone caving in on itself and the following thump tells him the walker was down.

After the their little battle the air is quiet, only the echos of the walkers snarls and hisses, and the sounds of flesh hitting ground rang in their ears. Carl's look of shock is almost funny.

Daryl swings his bow across over his shoulder and Maggie holsters her sword, and the actions seem to pop Carl's dazed bubble. He stands up and puts his dagger away, walking over to Maggie.

“I'm sorry I-I just-” he falters.

She smiles and ruffles his hair, squinting in the sunlight. “It's okay, I understand.”

Carl smiles a little, but Daryl could tell he'll be thinking about this moment for a long time.

“Thanks, Dare.” she says smiling at him before turning back to the gate with Carl, reaching for a tool in the belt wrapped around her waist.

He nods, and just like the time before he finds himself wanting to tell her not to call him that, but he doesn't. Instead he makes his way to the fields, shaking his head as he walks.

The days pass and Maggie's nickname sticks, and he finds himself starting to like it, a sense of closeness bubbling in his chest whenever she says it. He finds himself looking forward to it.

It's stupid to him. A grown man looking forward to an affection so small that it's something almost every twelve year old has. But another part of him doesn't care, doesn't want to care, and only wants to let himself enjoy this new step in their friendship.

Later he calls her, “Mags.” as if to mock her, but when she laughs he can help but give her a small smile in return, success blooming in his chest.

He shouldn't have been surprised when it caught on with everyone else. When Beth and Carl started saying it with the same nonchalance Maggie does, Carol saying it with a teasing smile, Michonne making it a full on show, a grin as wide as her katana. He grumbles a bit when she does it, but when it makes her laugh like it does he doesn't care, and he knows that she knows that his hatred about it just for show too.

He should have been more surprised when he didn't think twice about it anymore. That it was almost weird hearing his full name being said by these people.

There were exceptions, of course, there always were. Whenever they went on a run, or when zombies

came from seemingly nowhere and people where in a panic, “Daryl” was the name they went to.

A few stuck to his full name regardless. Ty, Bob, Hershel and a few others, and that was okay. He didn't feel any less closer to them. In fact, he felt just as close to them. He wondered if the use of his nickname was making him soft to the people of the prison. He would ask Maggie about it, but he had a feeling she'd tell him he's always been a bit soft.

“You make them feel safe, protected. Your name is like that as well.” Carol had said one day. The two of them were sitting alone in silence. They did that a lot. It wasn't because they couldn't talk, because some days Carol was able to get laughs and smiles out of him against his will, but some days they let the silence do the talking. It was comfortable, almost therapeutic, to share the silence with someone.

“You're like an older brother to these people.”

“Am not.”

“Yes, you are. 'Dare' is when they're joking with you, casual and comfortable, it's easy and carefree. 'Daryl' is when they're scared and needing help. When they need you to protect them and others when they can't.”

He shuffles a little bit under her gaze, but doesn't deny it. In fact, he finds himself feeling proud and warm, and when he places a hand on her arm she huffs out a laugh, and leans into his touch.

It's later when he thinks about the other reason he's called by his full name, and the blush that spreads from his cheeks to his ears and neck heats him up with an intensity that makes him curse the man who does it to him.

They're lying in bed, sleepy and sated, when he says it.

“You don't do it.”

“Don't do what?” Rick says, his mouth spreading into a lazy grin.

Daryl shoves his shoulder, only succeeding in making Rick's smile grow and making the man move closer, wrapping Daryl up in his grip. Just like the nickname Daryl doesn't mind, not anymore. It took him awhile to get use to the idea of them. The thought that someone wanted him without catches or motives. But then again he never really felt like that when it came to Rick. As insecure as he was, he knew Rick was honest and true, and he eventually allowed himself to be loved by the man.

“Shut up. You know what I'm talkin' about.”

“Why I don't call ya 'Dare'.”

“Yea.”

Rick shrugs, “I don't really know why I don't. I could if ya want me to.”

Daryl shakes his head, “Naw, you don't have t'.”

“M'kay. But I think I will every now and again. Keep you on your toes.”

Daryl hides his smile in the crook of Rick's neck.

The first few minutes of breakfast are always hectic. It's a time when everyone is together, all trying to fit on two tables pushed together. Daryl doesn't know why they do it. The majority of them are grown men and woman, a bit too big to be trying to fit in spots too small for them, but they always insist on sitting together. Like a family. So he doesn't complain when he's squished in between Rick and Michonne, her half in his lap, and really, he can't complain when he doesn't actually mind.

Beth looks at him, pointing to the bowl in front of him, “Hey, Dare, pass the peas.”

He gets a few smiles, and a nudge from Michonne as he passes the bowl, and he can't help but feel content.

He can't believe it took an apocalypse and thousands of deaths for him to find the people he truly belongs with.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have weird fixation with the idea that Rick grew peas in his little garden.  
> Don't know why, but I do, and it gave me such joy to include it.  
> I know, I'm a mess.  
> I'm sure this could be longer but it felt better short.
> 
>  
> 
> http://waynesgrayson.tumblr.com/


End file.
